


In and Out

by sublime42



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Belly Rubs, Dad!Eliot, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, References to Depression, Self-Medication, depressed!quentin, little!quentin, snuggles, stuffed animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublime42/pseuds/sublime42
Summary: In the month and a half since Alice's death, Quentin has become very depressed. Eliot worries.(non-sexual age play, please read the tags).
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	In and Out

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching this show and sort of want to take care of Quentin and snuggle him. So, I wrote this.

It had been a month and a half since Alice had died, and Eliot was worried. 

He’d watched Quentin go from denial, to anger and then bargaining, and now he seemed to be stuck in the depression stage of grief, if the amount of alcohol he’d been drinking was any indication.

Eliot understood it, he himself having been the king of self medication while at Brakebills. Quentin had loved Alice deeply, and now she was gone, and he didn’t know how to cope. 

He’d tried to help his friend, of course. He’d tried to talk to him, and when that didn’t work, he had a drink with him, hoping the alcohol would loosen Quentin up a bit, but it only seemed to create a dependence that hadn’t existed previously. Eliot felt guilty about that, and had distanced himself from Quentin due to it. He wished they could go back to the way things had been back before they ever came to Fillory, so that perhaps he could have his little boy back again.

00

Back on Earth, they’d sometimes done ageplay. It had started during Quentin’s second semester, when Eliot had heard Quentin crying at night after a particularly bad nightmare. Eliot had been up late, and had heard the soft sobbing as he walked past Quentin’s room.

The door was cracked open, and he couldn’t help but look inside. Seeing Quentin curled on the bed and hugging his pillow, Eliot recalled all too clearly his own father’s reaction when he woke up afraid. He’d get hit, punished for being so weak as to cry, and so he quickly learned to act tougher. He wished that Quentin had someone who might make him feel better, so that he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, as he had.

Eliot’s instincts tore him in different directions. On one hand, he knew he ought to walk away and pretend he hadn’t seen or heard anything. Quentin’s business was his own. On the other, the man clearly needed comfort. 

Biting his lip, Eliot approached the bed. Quentin startled slightly when he felt the mattress dip from Eliot sitting on it, but he didn’t shy away. In such a situation, Eliot knew that actions could speak more loudly than words. He rested a hand on Quentin’s side and rubbed him, and slowly, Quentin turned to face him. Eliot gently pulled Quentin up so that he was hugging him, then gently rocked him back and forth.

The motion and the feeling of being held was enough to calm Quentin down. He felt his eyes growing heavy, and soon enough he was on the verge of sleep.

Things might be awkward in the morning, he reasoned, but at least for right then, he felt safe. And Eliot, for his part, felt somewhat fulfilled.

00

Their relationship grew slowly from there. Eliot made himself more available to Quentin, and Quentin often came to him when he was agitated or upset or scared, or simply when he wanted love. They progressed from cuddling to playing, then to bathing. Just before they left for Fillory, Eliot had started hand feeding Quentin as well.

They hadn’t played since they’d arrived. Too much going on; not enough time. Eliot had approached Quentin a few times since Alice’s death, hoping to hug or snuggle with his boy, but Quentin hadn’t been interested. He shied away from Eliot’s touch. Eliot tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt him, but it did.

Now it was late at night. Eliot couldn’t sleep, so he’d gone to his favorite spot in the library, intending to keep his mind occupied with reading. The sound of the door opening caught his attention.

Expecting to see a guard, or maybe Margo, he was surprised to find Quentin standing before him, dressed in pajamas and with tears in his eyes.

Quentin looked unsteady on his feet, as if he might fall down any second, so Eliot quickly stood and came to his side.

“Q, what’s going on?” He asked, leading Quentin to the couch that he’d been sitting on. He noticed that Quentin was shaking, and it worried him.

Quentin didn’t respond, rather he snuggled up to Eliot and cried harder.

Eliot frowned and pulled Quentin into a hug, holding him tightly.

“What’s wrong, Q?” He asked again, after a few moments had passed. Quentin had started to calm slightly, but was still crying. Now that he wasn’t quite as worried, Eliot noticed that Quentin’s hair was messy, thrown in all directions, and that he smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in days. It was a combination of sweat and booze, and it was worrying. Quentin tended to be very clean; even in his younger mindset, he enjoyed bathing.

“Don’t feel good,” Quentin finally said, before whimpering and snuggling closer to Eliot. “El help?”

With that, Eliot knew that Quentin had regressed. He only used the name El when he felt small.

“I can try. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong,” Eliot said, running a hand through Quentin’s hair. It was greasy and knotted, Eliot noted.

“Hurts,” Quentin answered, sniffling.

“What hurts?” Eliot tried again.

Quentin groaned, annoyed that Eliot apparently wasn’t able to read his mind.

“Does your head hurt?” Eliot asked. “Or your throat?”

Quentin sniffled again and shook his head ‘no’. 

“Okay. Maybe your tummy?” He jokingly poked Quentin in the belly, making Quentin squirm and then hiccup. Well, that answered that. Eliot wondered if Quentin had eaten something that made him sick. Along with his constant drinking, Eliot noticed that Quentin had been eating a lot more, too. He took it as another symptom of depression and hadn’t said anything, even after he noticed that Quentin had started to gain a little weight. Looking the boy over, Eliot noticed that Quentin’s pajama shirt had started to ride up on his belly.

“Hurts, El,” Quentin finally said, as if it explained everything. Then he hiccuped again and groaned.

Eliot fought the urge to roll his eyes and rested his free hand on Quentin’s tummy. When he began rubbing in circles, he heard Quentin sigh. Eliot wasn’t a genius but he pretty much knew what had happened: Quentin had probably been drinking and eating his depression away and had eaten too much and given himself a stomachache, which made him drop into little space.

Well, he could make Q feel better at least. He continued to rub Q’s belly, ignoring the tiny hiccups and burps that the action produced. As the minutes ticked by Eliot felt Quentin relax further. His breathing evened out, the hiccups stopped, and soon enough Quentin had closed his eyes.

He waited until he felt sure that Quentin was asleep before speaking.

“I wish you’d let me help you more,” he whispered, holding Quentin tighter to him. “I love you, you know.”

There was no response, not that Eliot expected much of one. He sat there holding Quentin a while longer until his own eyes grew heavy as well.

00

The next morning Quentin woke first, squirming against Eliot and waking him as well.

“El, up!” Quentin said, directly into Eliot’s ear.

“Ergh,” Eliot sighed. Sleeping sitting up on a couch with Quentin on top of him hadn’t done his back any favors. He cracked his eyes open and the memory of what had happened flooded back to him.

“El!” Quentin repeated, seeing Eliot’s eyes open. “Up!”

“Okay, okay, I’m up.” Eliot gently shifted Quentin off of him so he could stand. Quentin followed suit and stood next to him, taking hold of Eliot’s hand. Clearly, he was still feeling very young, though Eliot noticed he didn’t look too great. He had bags under his eyes and was sniffling again. It was then that Eliot decided to take things into his own hands.

“Q, why don’t we go take a bath and then we’ll spend the day together,” he suggested. “We can play and talk and snuggle.”

Quentin sniffled again but nodded in agreement.

00

It took El over an hour to get the knots and tangles out of Quentin’s hair. By the end of it, the bath water had grown cold and Quentin had grown extremely grumpy. His head hurt, and his tummy felt funny and El kept pulling on his hair!

“There,” Eliot finally said, moving back from the edge of the tub. “All sorted, all clean.” 

Quentin felt his head, noticing that his hair felt much smoother than it previously had.

“Clean,” he repeated, half smiling at Eliot.

“Yup, all clean. Let’s get you dried off.” 

Eliot stood up and Quentin lifted his arms, expecting Eliot to help him.

Smiling, Eliot pulled Quentin to his feet. He wrapped a towel around Quentin’s waist and used another to dry off his back, chest and hair, before pulling his hair into a loose bun.

“This way it’ll stay off your back while it dries,” he explained.

Once Quentin was dry, Eliot helped him into a robe and led him back to his room.

The place was in total disarray. It caught Eliot off guard somewhat, but he supposed he should have expected it. There were empty bottles and dirty plates everywhere, and clothes littered the floor. 

“We really need to get this cleaned up, kiddo,” Eliot whispered, looking the place over. Quentin lowered his gaze in response.

“Sowwy El,” he mumbled, sounding even younger than he had the night before.

Eliot sighed, and hugged Quentin to him.

“It’s okay. It’s… not your fault. We can worry about it later. For now let’s just get you something to wear.”

There was a chest in the corner of the room that contained a few sets of clothing that could be used during ageplay. Eliot had it moved in when they first arrived, but it hadn’t been touched. Mostly it was soft sets of pajamas and knitted socks to keep Q’s feet warm.

Quentin followed Eliot over to it and watched as the older man opened it.

“Here we go,” Eliot said, pulling out a soft pair of dark blue pajamas. “Nice and cozy. Do you need help getting dressed?”

Eliot guessed that he did, but he felt he should ask.

“You help,” Quentin confirmed.

“Alright little man.” He helped Quentin remove his robe, then step into the pajama pants. They were a little snug, but they’d do for now. 

Quentin couldn’t button the shirt correctly. Eliot knew this and didn’t bother to let him try. He did the shirt up himself, smiling at the boy when he was done.

“Much more comfy, right?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” Quentin agreed. “But want Bo.”

Bo was Quentin’s stuffed bunny doll. He’d had it since he was little and had brought it from home to Brakebills, and then to Fillory. 

“Where is he?” Eliot questioned.

Quentin looked at him sadly.

“Lost.”

“I’m sure he’s not lost,” Eliot tried to reassure him. “Or if he is, we’ll find him quickly.” He glanced around the room again. He _really_ didn’t feel like digging through all the clothes and mess. A locator spell it was, then.

Bo was soon located under Quentin’s bed, hidden beneath a dirty shirt and a pair of underwear. How he’d gotten there, Eliot wasn’t sure, he was just happy that the bunny had been found. Quentin’s eyes lit up when Eliot handed Bo over.

“Missed him,” Quentin said, hugging the doll tightly. “I love Bo.” He placed a kiss on the bunny’s head.

“How long was he gone for?” Eliot asked. Quentin seemed so happy, clearly the bunny had been missing for some time.

“Weeks,” Quentin replied, kissing the bunny again.

Eliot couldn’t help but frown. He hated the idea that Quentin had been missing his favorite toy for so long, and hadn’t even attempted to find it. It spoke to the depths of sadness he must have been feeling as performing a locator spell would’ve taken only minutes. 

“El?” Quentin’s voice broke him away from that train of thought.

“Hm?” Eliot looked at Q expectantly.

“Snuggle now?” the boy asked hopefully.

Eliot nodded in agreement.

“Sure. Let’s go snuggle.”

00

They lay in one of the extra bedrooms that were used for royal guests. Eliot didn’t want them to be disturbed by Fen or anyone else, and he didn’t want to deal with the mess of Q’s room quite yet.

Still, the guest room was comfortable enough. The bed was large and soft and they’d snuggled up in the warm blankets. Quentin lay nearly on top of Eliot, his head resting on Eliot’s chest while Eliot wrapped an arm around him. Bo was resting in the crook of Quentin’s arm.

The boy was asleep again, but that was okay. Eliot assumed he needed the rest. Looking down he noticed that for the first time in a long while, Quentin looked peaceful. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but maybe, just maybe, this was the start of Quentin getting a little better.


End file.
